Baked Love
by hellmoth
Summary: Crabbe and Goyle have a secret that only they know about. They have a yearning, a desire for something no other human can give them. And when the opportunity arises, they take it, sleeping draught be damned.


**A/N:** **#thelist2017**

* * *

They were sitting there, glistening, ready for someone to snatch them up and take a bite. Crabbe and Goyle had just exited to Great Hall after a night full of feasting on eggnog, Christmas pudding, and turkey, and they were stuffed—until they saw the cakes. On a plate, resting on the bannister, the two beauties lay. They were decked out in chocolate frosting and, as if someone deliberately placed them there to tease, delicate chocolate sprinkles surrounding the dome-like curve of the cake.

At the sight of cakes, all juicy and moist and ready to be devoured, Crabbe and Goyle stopped in their tracks. They had never seen such beauty before. The cakes at the Three Broomsticks were dry, tasteless, and often had stray owl feathers baked into the mix. The cakes that their house elves made were passable, but Tooley and Hokey could never get the consistency of frosting right. The Hogwarts house elves however, made marvelous cakes. They were rich, had the perfect balance of whatever flavors were in them, and somehow never lost the fresh-out-of-the-oven warmth. But the cakes that were tantalizingly sitting a few meters away were more than that.

Crabbe and Goyle looked around, making sure that nobody was watching them, before crossing the distance between them and the cakes, grabbing the plate, and walking down the corridor. Where would they go to enjoy the sweet, warm, deliciousness? Their dormitory was out of the question. Draco was waiting in the common room and would skin them alive if they didn't report to him as soon as they got back—and would probably steal at least one of the cakes out of spite. Behind the greenhouses wasn't an option either. It was the middle of winter in Scotland and neither Crabbe nor Goyle wanted to freeze their bits off—even for the gloriousness that were the chocolate cakes. Taking them in a broom closet wasn't an option either; Filch knew to listen carefully at the doors of each one on his nightly shift because he knew that students had a penchant for sneaking off for nighttime activities in them. Empty classrooms however, those were free reign. Of course, some were locked and others were often looked into on nightly patrols around the castle, but out of the way ones, such as Trelawney's or Flitwick's, could be snuck into and used however one wished.

While climbing the staircases, Crabbe and Goyle fantasized about what they would do to the cakes once they were alone. Crabbe's thoughts were straightforward. He was starved for the taste and feel of a warm, pliable cake. He'd never been with anyone before and certainly never a beautiful cake like this. The closest he'd ever gotten was one disastrous night in his uncle Benedetto's house. The Crabbe family was invited for Christmas Eve feast with his entire extended family (only the purebloods, of course). While his male cousins we're off drooling over Busty and Bewitched and his female cousins were gossiping over Ludo Bagman's abs, Crabbe decided to sneak into the kitchens. It was during the lull between dinner and dessert and he was bored. He was hungry, but not for food; he had stuffed himself enough during the feast. He was hungry for something that the house elves were making in the kitchen. Something that assaulted his nostrils the moment dinner was taken away. Crabbe could feel it's presence in the enormous mansion and all he wanted to do was find it and a locked room. So, he did. As he made his way down to the kitchen, he didn't notice a young cousin following him. Bobert Crabbe the third was the boy's name. He worshipped his older brother, Wobert, who had a childhood vendetta against Crabbe and wanted to get him in trouble in any way that he could. So Wobert sent Bobert to spy on his poor, unsuspecting cousin. And after Bobert found Crabbe and ran to Wobert, the house was in an uproar. Aunt Zaramama fainted. Uncle Saran whispered, "So he had his _thing_ out and was ready to do _that_ to our dessert?" Little cousin Bobert snuck into the kitchen while nobody was looking and locked the door. Ever since that disastrous evening, and the repercussions he faced because of it, Crabbe had been afraid to put a baked good anywhere but his face. But tonight was different. Tonight he had his best friend, and occasional lover, beside him and nobody would stand in their way.

Goyle knew what Crabbe was thinking. He had known him for almost their entire lives; they were connected by the one thing Good and Pure in this miserable world: The Dark Lord. Despite his loyalty, Goyle knew that his Supreme Evilness would scoff at Crabbe's thoughts. "Oi mate you're shite at fantasizing," Sir Snake Nose would say, "Where's the fucking excitement! The torture! At least charm it so you can hear it scream!" Now that was a man Crabbe could stand behind. Or stand in front of, since his job was kind of protect and follow the Bald Maniac so he can reign over the world. And you can't really do that if your evil overlord took a spell to the chest. Anyways, Goyle was slightly ashamed of Crabbe's vanilla leanings. He himself preferred red velvet, or maybe chocolate ganache. In a bind, he would accept tiramisu. But it would have to be a very tight bind. Rope, none of this "love tape" some muggles like to use. Only the best braided cord to endure the love of tiramisu. He did have standards, you know. Enjoying private time with a cake during Christmas holidays was just uncivilized. Every cultured person knew that Easter was the perfect opportunity. His house elves made the best rhubarb-pear-ginger-lemon pie in England. And anyways, Goyle preferred pies. The crust – especially if it was lattice – made things a little rougher, more fun, despite the pain. He should really take Crabbe home during Easter break. Give him a guiding hand to bring him to higher levels of sugar-induced ecstasy. At least he wasn't Draco though. Draco Malfoy's nocturnal habits still confused Goyle. What did he do with the apples? He could bore holes in them and use them that way, but it would be cramped and uncomfortable. And he knew that Draco's manhood wouldn't fit, he'd seen it. There was the possibility that he only made out with it, but he had heard the noises coming from Draco's four-poster during the night. Those weren't the noises of a man merely kissing a piece of fruit. That left only one option, but _how?_ Either Draco preferred crabapples, or certain parts of him were more elastic than Goyle presumed.

As the boys rounded a corner, they suddenly came upon a door, knocking into each other as they fumbled to get it open. They were in Professor Flitwick's charms classroom, pillows still covering the floor from their lesson on exploding hexes. Here and there, a feather drifted down from the ceiling, almost as if it was molting. It was romantic, in a way. Once in a while, they would feel a tickle on the back of their necks only to find an emerald feather gliding gently toward the floor. Slowly, they started to disrobe, taking off the scratchy wool robes to find both of them straining against their pants. Goyle glided a hand down, across his chest, reaching into his underpants to grab his throbbing member. In a swift motion, he whipped it out and started moving his hand up and down while massaging the icing of the cake. Inspired and aroused by his friend's blatant display of nudity, Crabbe undressed himself fully and walked over to where Goyle was pleasuring himself and started grinding against Goyle's backside. His length dripping precum, slipping and sliding like a grindylow out of water. As he got harder, he couldn't take the strain of not being near the object of his affection. As Goyle kept pleasuring himself, Crabbe picked up the cake that he had put down on a desk. He gently laid it down a pillow, frosting side facing him, and started to lightly tease the frosting with his rock-hard cock. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and thrust in, feeling the way the frosting gave him a smooth entrance into the moist, gooey cake. He went slow, enjoying the feeling of the cake's delicate walls stretching and crumbling around his dick. As Crabbe continued to fuck his cake, Goyle decided to be a bit naughty with his. He slowly brought the cake to his mouth, tongue lapping at the peaks of soft, creamy frosting. His tongue stroked up and down, getting into the creases he made in the frosting. He loved everything about the cake's frosting, the sweetness, the texture, the way he felt when he was able to enjoy a cake this way. Eventually though, it got old. Not old as in boring, but old as in he wanted to mix things up a bit. He walked over to where Crabbe was making love to his cake and tapped him on the scapula. As usual, words failed him so he jerked his head to the side, motioning Crabbe to sit up. After carefully placing the two cakes side by side, Goyle crouched down opposite Crabbe and started forcefully thrusting into his own cake. After a second, Crabbe followed suit. The two boys moved their cocks in sync, in and out of the somehow still warm cakes. As they thrusted, the tips of their dicks collided, sending bursts of pleasure through their bodies, making them shudder. Soon enough, the pleasure amounted to a level that neither of them could handle, and they teetered on the precipice of orgasm. Right before the sensations got too much to handle, Goyle took out his hard, stiff wand, pointed it at the cakes, and muttered two guttural _engorgio_ 's, enlarging the cakes, and giving both boys a larger mass to thrust into. With a particularly hard thrust, Goyle's pleasure reached his peak and he came, spewing hot ropes of cum into the cakes and his friend's dick. At the sight of Goyle, Crabbe couldn't take it anymore and he came too, roused by Goyle's deep, booming squeaks of hedonism. The cakes now had a cream filling.

Tired and spent, the boys collapsed next to each other, basking in the afterglow of their experience. Slowly, Crabbe crawled down Goyle's body, licking along the curves of his non-existent abs, until he got to Goyle's dick. He put his lips around Goyle's member, gently sucking, enjoying the way he tasted. The sweetness of the cake, the chocolatey-ness of the frosting, and the bitter taste of his love potion. He sucked until Goyle was clean, making sure to lick between the folds. Despite stimulation, Goyle remained soft, because the male refractory period is a bitch. A quick _scourgify_ cleaned up the rest of the mess on both Crabbe and Goyle's cocks and they slowly got up, putting their robes back on as they went. The cakes were still lying on the pillows, surprisingly shapely for what had just been done to them. It would be blasphemous to waste such good food, so Crabbe and Goyle finished the remnants of their jizz-covered love. There was a faint bitter taste, unlike their cum. It tasted vaguely like magic, but they shrugged it off and exited the classroom, leaving no trace of what had occurred.

As they descended the grand staircase, they felt the overwhelming urge to curl up and fall asleep. And so they did, five steps away from the bottom of the stairs. They tumbled down, unaware of the damage a marble staircase can do to one's head, and came to a rest at the bottom, right at the feet of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

"So where do you think they got off to while McGonagall lectured us?" Ron said.

"I don't know, Ron," Harry said, "And knowing them, I would like to spend the rest of my life not knowing. Now let's get the hair and get out of here before someone catches us."


End file.
